


Code Names

by Limestone_and_Hemlock



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Instances of Anti-Gay Language, M/M, Mild Angst, Seriously so much smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limestone_and_Hemlock/pseuds/Limestone_and_Hemlock
Summary: Michael: From now on, we will be using code names. You can address me as Eagle One. Alex, code name -- Been There, Done That. Maria is -- Currently Doing That. Liz is -- It Happened Once in a Dream; Kyle, code name -- If I Had To Pick a Jerk. Max is -- Eagle Two.Max: Oh thank God.(A somewhat humorous series of vignettes about Michael Guerin's relationships with his lovers, friends, and enemies.)Chapter 1: Michael/Alex (2018)Chapter 2: Michael/Maria (2018)Chapter 3: Michael/Liz (2010)Chapter 4: Michael & Izzy, Michael/Kyle (2007)Chapter 5: Michael & Max (2014)
Relationships: Isobel Evans & Michael Guerin, Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin, Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin & Kyle Valenti, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Liz Ortecho
Comments: 11
Kudos: 18





	1. Been There Done That (Alex, 2018)

**Author's Note:**

> When I say that Alex is "Been There Done That," I am not predicting the future of the show. It's a reference to a line in Parks & Rec.
> 
> Angst & Butt Stuff, because it's Malex.

“God I missed you,” Alex whispered into Michael’s pillow, sounding close to tears. “I missed you so much.”

Michael said nothing, just continued working Alex over with his tongue as Alex squirmed into the mattress. It had been five days since he’d said, _I never look away_ , and Alex had showed up on his doorstep every night since then. This time, Michael had undressed Alex slowly, whispering all the dirty things he was going to let Alex do to him. He’d stared straight into Alex’s eyes the whole time, watching him flush with embarrassed desire as Michael stripped him of his uniform, piece by piece.

Michael could feel the tension and pleasure shivering through Alex’s muscles as he ran his hands up the backs of Alex’s thighs. Alex made guttural noises that sang along Michael’s nerves, squirming into the mattress so hard that Michael lost his rhythm.

Michael lifted his head and gave Alex a hard swat on his muscular ass. “Stop moving so much,” he said. “Just let me do this.”

Alex whimpered into the pillow as Michael gazed up the broad, smooth delta of his back. “Can you come like this?” He asked, lips moving against the warm skin between the dimples of Alex’s lower back. “If you don’t touch your dick and I keep fucking you with my tongue…”

“Michael, please,” Alex said, voice breaking with desperation.

Michael ran a hand up the length of Alex’s spine to rub soothingly at his tense neck. Then he lowered his head and pushed his tongue inside Alex again.


	2. Currently Doing That (Maria, 2018)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Maria get lost in the desert. (Canon compliant, 1x09.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maria Deluca deserves nice things, always and forever.
> 
> Also, this chapter uses "cunt" as a synonym for "vagina." (Not in a derogatory way.)

“I just needed some quiet. It’s definitely not that way because there’s no light.”

Michael wouldn’t have blamed Maria if she’d slapped him across the face. Instead, she kissed him again. The plaid blanket slipped from her shoulders and he tossed his hat to the ground. Their clothes came off quickly after that, except for a brief, frustrating interlude where they both struggled to get Maria’s jeans off with her still standing up. Then they were naked under the night sky, both laughing as Maria kicked her panties off her foot a little harder than she’d meant to, so they landed in a delicate, lacy pile next to a patch of tough desert plants.

Michael kept his hands at his sides and let Maria take her time looking at him. A dare. A challenge.

“Well,” she said. “I guess it’s true what all the girls say about you.” She wasn’t looking at his face when she said it.

“What do they say, Deluca?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

She met his eyes then, with a level, even gaze. “They say you have a very pretty dick.”

She gasped, and then melted against him as he pulled her close. He held her by the waist with one arm, chest against her back, chin level with her ear. “Didn’t you know that already, Deluca?” He asked. “Aren’t you clairvoyant or something?”

“Clairvoyant,” she said, voice going high and breathy. “I’m not Superman. I don’t have X-Ray vision.”

“Ah,” he said, sliding his rough, callused hands up the curve of her waist and over her breasts to tease her achingly hard nipples. “But don’t you wish you did sometimes?”

Her hand slipped between them, closing around his painfully hard cock. Then she flicked him in the stomach with her middle finger. “Pervert.”

As an answer, he traced the delicate curve of her ear with the tip of his tongue, tasting the day’s sweat dried against her skin. “What do you see, Deluca?”

“Everything,” she said, staring out at the desert, and the night sky. Then she turned and wrapped her arms around him to kiss him again. He held her tight, and soon enough he was on the thin blanket with Maria on top of him and all sorts of tiny rocks digging into his back. Not that he was complaining. He circled her clit with two fingers as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed, his fingers slipping against her.

“Jesus, Deluca,” he murmured against her mouth. “Have you always been this wet for me?”

That made her smile, even though she tried to hide it. She pressed her palm to the center of his chest. "Please tell me you have protection," she told him.

"I have protection," he said, reaching into the pocket of his discarded jeans and fishing a condom out of his wallet.

He handed it to her, pleasure shivering through his abdomen when she put it onto him. Then she sank down on his cock, eyes rolling shut and mouth falling open. He almost came right then and there, white-hot pleasure spiking through his thighs and lower belly at the perfect, wet heat of her cunt clenching around him. He closed his eyes and bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, counting backward from twenty.

He opened his eyes as she leaned over him, tits brushing against his chest, steadying herself with a hand flat on the ground next to his head. “Tell me that you want me,” she said, sounding slightly vulnerable and, well, naked.

“Maria I-- _fuck_ \--I’ve wanted you since our twelfth-grade homecoming dance.”

There was a long moment filled with nothing but the sound of hard breathing and the keening of distant coyotes. Maria cocked an eyebrow. “The same homecoming dance where I poured a gallon of fake blood over my own head to protest the Sarah-Palin-moose-hunting video?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, head falling back as Maria rolled her hips. “Right after you yanked off your dress and jumped onstage in nothing but an American flag bikini and silver cowboy boots.” She started fucking him in earnest then, and slid two fingers into his mouth. He tasted traces of her cunt, and of himself, on her fingers.

“That was a statement about the commodification of women’s bodies,” she said, hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

“A _hot_ statement,” he said, fingers curving around her hips.

“Shut up, Guerin,” she said, teasing and affectionate.

He grinned at her and did as he was told.


	3. It Happened Once In a Dream (Liz, 2010)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20-year-old Michael has a dream about Liz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as last chapter: "cunt" as a synonym for "vagina."

Michael gripped the top of his mattress so hard that he yanked the sheet off at the feeling of Liz’s mouth around his dick. The ends of her hair trailed against his bare thighs, giving him goosebumps. There was a delicious soreness in the hinge of his jaw, and the salt-earthy taste of her cunt lingered in his mouth, giving him an erection like a fucking steel rod. He’d eaten her out for hours, made her come over and over, until her legs were limp and shaking and she was overflowing with wetness, soaking the sheets.

He felt the heat of her cunt as she straddled his leg, naked, and sucked him off. She pulled back until her lips were around the head of his cock, and traced small, delicate circles with with the tip of her tongue, right where he was most sensitive. She looked up at him, shy and doe-eyed, as she teased him.

“ _Fuck_ , don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m gonna come in your mouth if you do that.”

She pulled her mouth off of him, slowly, lips making an obscene noise. “You don’t want that?” She murmured, crawling up the length of his body until her tits were right in his face. And Christ, her tits were fantastic. He wanted to put her on her back and suck on them until she came again, screaming and writhing and pulling his hair until his scalp ached.

She gripped his hair, tipping his head back so he was looking straight into her eyes again. “I want you to look at me when you fuck me,” she said, swollen clit rubbing against the sensitive, spit-wet head of his cock. “It makes me come so fucking hard.”

He reached between them to position himself against her. “I want to feel you come,” he murmured. “I want you clenching around my dick, shaking and screaming my name."

“Michael,” she whispered, voice soft and pleading. She filled herself with his cock with one fast, hard push of her hips, pulling a groan out of the depths of his abdomen.

“Oh fuck,” he murmured, palming her perfect fucking tits as she started riding him. “Max is gonna fucking kill me if he finds out about this.”

“Max doesn’t need to know,” Liz murmured, forehead pressed against his.

Everything went white, and Michael woke up coming onto his own stomach, alone in sheets drenched with sweat. He lay there, blinking, catching his breath. Jesus, of all the fucked-up sex dreams…

A wave of panicky guilt broke over him as he thought about Liz, which he tried to do as little as possible. What sort of fucked up cognitive processes put the girl whose life he’d helped ruin into his subconscious spank bank? Not to mention Max would probly kill him if he found out that Michael was having elaborate and dirty dreams about Liz. And Jesus, who even still had wet dreams at the age of twenty?

He shifted on the lumpy pallet of foam that passed for a mattress and held his breath to calm his heartbeat. Liz was hundreds of miles away, and not likely to come back. And Max? Well. It was like dream-Liz said. Max didn’t have to know.


	4. If I Had to Pick a Jerk (Kyle, 2007)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17-year-old Michael gets in a shoving match with Kyle. Mild UST.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two instances of anti-gay language.

Two weeks into senior year, Izzy and Michael lay on adjacent benches in the bleachers as the sun beat down on them. Izzy was working on her tan during her free period; Michael was skipping AP chemistry.

“So do your friends know that you and I hang out?” Michael asked, opening one eye.

Izzy had just made head cheerleader and spent most of her time with the other rah-rahs who had all started copying her hairstyle, her fashion sense, and her mannerisms. “Sure they do,” Izzy said, perfectly blasé.

“Really?” he said, nonplussed. “They’re not judging you for hanging out with a guy who lives in a truck?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I just told them you and I are hooking up.” 

Michael sat all the way up and looked at Izzy like she’d grown another head.

“What?” She said, looking at him over the top of her giant sunglasses. “Plenty of popular mean girls hook up with burnouts in secret. You know, like John Bender and Claire Standish.”

“Huh?” Michael said, still giving her the two-heads look.

She sighed. “You never watched _The Breakfast Club_?”

“Have we met?” He said, lying back down. “Of course not. Not a lot of family movie nights in my life. Or movies, period.”

Izzy didn’t respond to that. “All the girls on the cheer team think it’s super cool that I’m secretly getting with a sexy bad boy. Or if they don’t, they’re too scared to say so. Either way, I win.”

Michael slanted Izzy a look. “A sexy bad boy? Is that what I am?”

“Those were Tess’s exact words,” Izzy said, lifting three fingers. “Scout’s honor. Anyway, if they didn’t think we were hooking up I’d have to tell them that you and I are like, friends. And try explaining that to a bunch of bottle blondes whose idea of fun is stealing their parents’ vodka and mainlining episodes of _The O.C._ ”

“Jesus Iz,” Michael said. “you sound like Regina George.”

“So you _do_ watch movies sometimes,” she said triumphantly.

“Fine,” he said, closing his eyes again. “You got me.”

A few minutes later, Izzy stood up, shouldering her tiny purse. “Gotta go,” she said. “Practice is about to start. Oh look, Kyle’s here.”

“God, really?” Michael said, sitting up.

“You know, he got kind of hot over the summer,” she said, considering.

“Izzy, whatever you’re thinking about doing with Kyle Valenti, please don’t do it.”

“I didn’t say I was gonna do anything,” she said. “I’m just saying he’s kind of hot.”

“And I’m just saying you need to dial the boy-craziness back a couple thousand notches.”

Michael usually would’ve left when Izzy left, but he wanted to avoid any appearance that he was running from Kyle. So he waited until Kyle climbed into the bleachers in his shoulder pads and shorts to wait for football practice to start. He scowled when he saw Michael.

“What the hell are you doing here, Guerin?” Kyle asked, displaying reflexive jock hostility.

Michael shrugged, letting the silence stretch out before he said, “ _Not_ setting a new standard for suburban conformity?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kyle scowled, climbing a few steps closer.

“You,” Michael said. “And the fact that you’re gonna end up as a bitter divorced alcoholic with a dead-end job and no friends if you don’t learn to tone down the aggressive frat-bro hostility.” 

He climbed to his feet as he said it, knowing what came next, which was Kyle shoving him in the chest. Michael took his weight on his back foot and shoved back. Kyle came at him again, grabbing his wrist this time.

Instead of trying to yank his arm back like Kyle was expecting, Michael stepped close with a sharp grin. “I like it when you’re rough,” he murmured.

Kyle made a disgusted noise and dropped Michael’s wrist like it was molten metal. “Guerin, you’re a fucking--”

“Cocksucker?” Michael offered. “Homo? You’re gonna need some new material if you want people to keep being scared of you, Kyle.”

Kyle looked unsure how to proceed, given that Michael wasn’t scared or even denying being a cocksucker. Finally he settled for muttering, “I’m gonna put my fist through your jaw one of these days.”

“Yeah?” Michael said, sitting back on the bench and letting his body go flirtatiously languid. “Anything else you fantasize about doing to me?”

Kyle shot him a murderous look. But then he walked away. Michael smirked, lying back on the stingingly hot metal bench and lacing his fingers behind his head. His body was still buzzing, probably from leftover adrenaline. Or maybe, an internal voice that he’d gotten good at ignoring whispered, maybe Izzy was right. Kyle Valenti had gotten kind of hot over the summer.


	5. Eagle 2 (Max, 2014)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Max have a talk at the Pony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are references to a woman named Tess in RNM as an easter egg/reference to the character Tess from 1999 Roswell. Just to be clear, the version of Tess in this fic is not an Antaran; she is a 100% human woman.

Max and Michael weren’t especially close when they were 24. But Max didn’t look surprised when Michael landed in the vinyl booth across the table from him one night at the Pony. Max, along with everyone else in the bar, had just seen Tess slap Michael across the face. He still had her handprint on his cheek when he sat down.

“You look like you need this more than me,” Max said, sliding a glass of single malt across the table to Michael. Michael preferred beer to scotch, but he swallowed it anyway.

“So.” Max sounded sympathetic but amused, in a way that made Michael glower. “What happened?”

“Probly about what you think,” Michael said, rubbing his face morosely.

“So do you _only_ sleep with women who already have boyfriends?”

“Tess has a fiancé, not a boyfriend," Michael said. "I mean, maybe not for very much longer, but still.”

“Really?” Max asked, sounding unimpressed.

“Really,” Michael said. “Check the diamond.” He leaned to the left to give Max a clear line of sight to Tess, who was getting spectacularly drunk on daquiris, and the huge, more-money-than-taste engagement ring on her finger. Even though he knew that the ring wasn’t what Max’s _Really?_ had been about.

And God’s honest truth? The situation wasn’t what Max probly thought it was. At least not exactly. Tess was engaged, that much was true. Her fiancé was some blandly handsome rich guy from Houston, the son of oil millionaires. Izzy had been very impressed when she read the engagement announcement, although for the life of him, Michael couldn’t remember Blandly Handsome Fiancé’s name.

But whatever the guy’s name was, Michael had run into him at the Pony the other night. He told Michael he was in town with Tess, making wedding plans, and asked if he wanted to play pool. Tess was running late, apparently. She’d texted about a flat tire, which gave her fiancé time for two games of pool, and for Michael to suck his dick in the front seat of his shiny range rover. (Purchased with oil industry blood money, no doubt.)

Tess arrived just in time to see the grand finale: She smacked a hand on the passenger’s side window just as her fiancé finished coming in Michael’s mouth. Her fiancé, whatever his name was, had looked appropriately ashamed. Michael, on the other hand, rolled down the window and gave Tess an insouciant little smile. “Hey Tessie,” he said. “Been a long time. You’ve got great taste in men, incidentally.”

Tess’s fiancé made a choked little noise behind Michael. Understandable, given the fury radiating from Tess’s eyes. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I think you two have some things to talk about.” At that moment, Tess had been too shocked to try to stop Michael as he opened the car door, squeezed past her and sauntered back into the bar.

She hadn’t done anything then, but she’d made up for it with the force of her slap tonight. Michael looked over at her and felt a hard pinch of guilt in his stomach. She was still plenty angry, but the moment before she’d hauled off and smacked him, a look of pure hurt had flooded her pretty, elfin face.

Whatever. Michael squashed the guilty feeling, hard. As far as he was concerned he’d done Tess and her fiancé a favor. Michael knew for a fact that he gave good head, and Tess? Well. Now she knew her fiancé was a cheater. If she married him anyway, that was her business.

Max was saying something to him, Michael realized as he tore his gaze away from Tess. Michael only caught Max’s concluding “…might be easier if you didn’t actively try to make it so hard.”

“I know, I know,” Michael said, holding up his hands in a conciliatory way even though he hadn’t heard most of what Max had said. “You’re right, Max. I swear, I will behave better. Starting tomorrow.”

Max looked dubious but didn’t say anything. And Michael wondered, for a moment, if he wouldn’t be quite as much of a self-destructive shithead if he actually followed Max’s advice. If he’d be a better person entirely if he’d had the chance to grow up with Max and Izzy.

But there was no point wondering about a life you hadn’t led, so Michael stood up and said, “I’m gonna go get a couple shots of bottom-shelf tequila. You want anything while I’m over there?”


End file.
